Inevitable
by miss scheherazade
Summary: AU. Spike is sired by Darla when Angelus would have been originally. Years later he comes across a captivating young woman, and his existence becomes decidedly more complicated.


Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy.

...

**Inevitable**

**...**

-1-

If vampires exist, why not angels?

It was the first thing Spike thought when he saw her. She was laughing lightly as she and her sister walked the streets of London, her eyes bright, a teasing smile playing across her lips. Stunning wouldn't begin to describe her. _Effulgent _was the closest word he could think of, and he couldn't even be disgusted with himself for using the term. Not when the woman was the sort who made men far stronger than himself scribble verse after verse of bloody awful poetry.

"So what do you think?"

He looked at Darla, his lovely sire who'd selected the dark beauty with the visions of the future as his destined childe.

"She's perfect."

…

-2-

Spike's plans for the girl were rendered useless from the first time they spoke.

She was alone, hovering near the entrance of an otherwise empty church, eyes fixed on the cross above the altar. Small spots of moisture dotted her coat where snowflakes had melted, and Spike focused on the little specks, trying to distract himself from the massive crucifix that was towering rather obnoxiously over him.

She glanced up when he approached her, but there was no surprise in her expression. No fear either, which was unexpected. Darla had said she was physic – that she might know what he intended to do to her – so he figured if she recognized him she'd be terrified.

Maybe the angel had a bit more demon in her than it seemed. Maybe she wanted him to turn her.

But no. He couldn't quite believe that. Not looking into her eyes. There was no trace of deception there, no sign that she was anything other than what she appeared. Her goodness was genuine, lighting her up from the inside out. This woman was the rare sort who didn't feign decency, who didn't play the saint because of what she could gain from it. She did it because it was what came naturally to her. Because it was who she was.

His skin prickled slightly, being so close to her.

Spike imagined it was because a girl like this, well – she might as well have been a human cross. She made his demon uncomfortable just by breathing.

"I used to think," said the woman in a tone people usually reserved for chatting up old friends, her voice low and tinged with the most beautiful of accents, "my visions were from the devil. I was _so _scared of them. I prayed and prayed that I would stop seeing things."

"What changed?" asked Spike, cursing himself when the words came out breathless. He sounded like William. Weak and love-struck, unable to stand in a pretty girl's presence without losing his head.

"I saw that good and bad aren't so simple. Seeing the future is… odd, but if I make proper use of the ability, does that not mean my visions are good?" She looked at him, dark eyes peering _into _him, seeing far too much. "And you… Everything I know would tell me to cast you out as a demon, but… but if you act like a man, should you not be treated like one?"

"I don't act like a man," said Spike dumbly. He couldn't even work up the appropriate amount of anger at such a ridiculous statement. Not when she was looking at him like _that. _

"But you could."

"Look, I don't-"

"Shh." She raised a finger to her lips, the gesture so obviously meant to be innocent that he felt slightly uncomfortable for finding it arousing. "Don't argue, William. Stay here – pray, if you like. I must go to confession. When I am finished, we may take a walk."

_I don't take bloody walks. What do you take me for? A bloke from a Jane Austen novel? _

He couldn't bring himself to say the words.

"Alright. But I'm not praying."

"As you wish."

She glided off, moving so gracefully she might as well have been floating.

He watched her go, then despite what he'd said found himself uttering a brief prayer.

"God help me."

Jesus peered down at him from the cross, his expression cold in Spike's opinion. Certainly not the sort of face that seemed likely to grant mercy towards the likes of him.

He had a feeling he was on his own with this one.

…

-3-

She emerged from the confessional within minutes. Then again, he didn't imagine she could've had many sins to confess.

He wondered what sort of so-called wrongs she'd shared with the priest.

'Forgive me father, for I uttered a swear-word upon stubbing my toe.'

'Forgive me for I spoke ill of my sister, and even though she deserved it I still feel so very guilty.'

'Forgive me for I have agreed to take a walk with a demon.'

But did she even think the last a sin?

It didn't sound like she would, not the way she'd talked earlier about him maybe deserving to be treated like a man.

He thought this over as she knelt in a pew towards the front of the church and said her penance. Apparently the priest agreed with Spike's assessment that her 'sins' were piddly at best, because within the space of maybe two 'Hail Marys' she stood and approached him once more.

Her smile was different now. Lighter. Even more angelic.

"Confession makes you that happy?"

"It releases me from guilt I feel for past wrongs." She tilted her head, studying him. There was a beat of silence, and then she added, "I imagine you know something of how that must feel."

He realized with a start that she was talking about the loss of his soul. The freedom that came with having no regrets.

A rusty laugh erupted from his throat.

"I'm not sure the man upstairs would appreciate _that _comparison," he said as they exited the church, walking side-by-side, just closely enough that he could feel her body heat.

He wanted to close the space between them, to take her hand in hers, but that was ridiculous. She would not accept it, and anyway, demons did not hold hands.

"Oh, but don't you think he'd enjoy the irony?"

"Not the God I remember hearin' about in church."

"Maybe you didn't get to know him well enough." She looked towards the moon, snowflakes falling in her face, getting tangled in her dark lashes, and she grinned. It was a lovely grin. Knowing and girlish and with the barest _hint _of playfulness. It was the sort of grin even a demon wanted to write sonnets about.

He was so distracted by her almost enthralling beauty that he started slightly when she continued speaking. "If God did not have a sense of humor, I do not think he would have done this – that he would have woven us together in his lovely tapestry."

"Us? Together?"

She looked at him like he was two steps slower than he should've been.

"Of course, my William."

"And you're… okay with that?"

"I want to be good… Want to be a saint even. And is it not the job of saints to save sinners?"

Right. So she was confused.

"Pet, I don't think you understand-"

She cut him off with a girlish giggle.

"No, dear William. It is you who are lagging, but do not fret." She gave him a tongue-touched smile and leaned forward as though to share a secret. "I will make sure you catch up."

Her momentary nearness dazzled him, and by the time he recovered she was dancing away, her bell-like laughter ringing in his ears.

…

-4-

"I was sure they watched girls more closely than this in my day," said Spike when she showed up at his place, clutching her shawl to her chest to ward off the cold. He didn't even ask how she'd found his current home; he had a gut feeling she knew more about him than he was entirely comfortable with.

"Papa is at work, and Mama and my sisters have gone out. I saw that you needed company."

In other words she saw that he was alone. She was right, too. He'd sent Darla packing the other day, said he needed time alone with his new project.

His sire had given him a knowing look and left without question.

Spike wondered what she would have done had she guessed his real reasons for deciding to take his time with the girl.

"Well, alright. Since you snuck away just for me."

"I brought a sweet treat," she added, eyes sparkling.

"Vampire, luv," he reminded her.

"That doesn't mean anything." And it really didn't in that particular instance; he still enjoyed human cuisine every now and then, would almost certainly appreciate whatever she'd brought. She smiled as she entered his house (a lovely two-story inherited from a particularly delicious gentleman), heading for the kitchen as though she knew exactly where to find it. Over her shoulder, she asked, "And why did you not tell me I've been so rude?"

"Because you haven't…?"

"I have," she argued. "I know you, but you do not know me. I haven't even told you my name, poor boy."

He was terrified that her calling him 'poor boy' made him want to smile more than it made him want to tear her throat out.

Clearly there was something very wrong with him.

"Right." Spike cleared his throat. "I guess I hadn't thought much on it." And he hadn't. When he thought of her, 'the angel' always seemed to serve in place of a name. It fit her well enough that he'd never really questioned it. Besides, she was such a mystery to him, so hard to read, so… insubstantial that having a name to pin her down with had never actually occurred to him.

But now he was curious, and he waited interestedly for her to introduce herself, watching intently as she laid down the package she'd brought and knelt in front of his fireplace, expertly poking at the fire, adding another log or two so that it burned more hotly

"Your name?" he pressed, when it became clear she'd forgotten herself in her work.

She glanced at him, appearing a little startled.

"Drusilla."

Unique. Beautiful. Elegant.

Just like her.

"It fits."

"Thank you, William."

Drusilla scrounged up an old pot the previous owners had left behind. He watched with a raised brow as she opened the package she'd brought with her and emptied a jug of milk into the pot, then added a bit of water and hung the mixture over the fire.

"What're you up to, pet?"

"Patience, darling." She checked to make sure the pot was in order. Apparently satisfied, she seated herself at his table and regarded him with some degree of uncertainty. "Hmm. Now we're supposed to talk, are we not? But I do not know what there is to discuss… I do not speak much with anyone, understand. Not except my sisters and me mum."

"Well… You could tell me about your family," he said before he could think much of it.

And she did. With love woven into every inch of her voice, Drusilla told him about her three younger sisters who she thought the world of, and of her mother who didn't like her visions but still loved her and made lemon pies in the summer that tasted like sunshine, and of her tall and strong father who used to put her on his shoulders and let her pretend she could touch the sky.

He watched her as she spoke, enraptured by the gentle syllables of her words, by the soft sincerity of everything she said. His fascination only increased after her milk and water started to boil and she went over to the pot and added shavings of a chocolate bar she'd brought. Spike's lips twitched as she deftly began whipping the mixture, only pausing the conversation briefly before she resumed her storytelling.

After some minutes, the hot chocolate was finished. She found mugs in one of the cabinets and filled both of them, sliding one in front of Spike with a hopeful smile.

"My mother used to…"

It was the first time he'd brought up his mother in years, and he couldn't quite manage to finish the sentence.

Drusilla reached out and put a hand over his, squeezing lightly.

"You will be alright, my William."

At that moment, drinking hot chocolate and basking in the brilliance of an angel, he found that he believed her.

…

-5-

They started meeting nearly every day. Sometimes he went to the church, and whenever he did she was there. If he decided to stay in, she'd find some way to sneak off and visit him.

Each time he saw her, he thought for a second that it'd be the day, that he'd turn her and they could find Darla again and that'd be that.

Each time he thought it, he felt almost sick with guilt for even _considering _tarnishing the angel in front of him.

It was several weeks before he admitted out loud that he wasn't going to hurt her.

"I can't do it," he said. "It'd be like turning off the sun."

She'd obviously known, but she still smiled like he'd given her the best gift he could have offered.

"Thank you, sweet William." She took his hand and turned it over in hers, studying it closely. "I wouldn't mind, you know – being with you forever. But I want my soul. I want to be good." Her eyes met his. "I want to be able to love you, as you deserved to be loved."

Something heavy was suddenly blocking his throat. Several minutes passed before he could speak.

"And do you, Dru?" He coughed. "Love me?"

"Of course."

She said it so simply. Like there was nothing exceptional about a woman like her loving a monster like him. Like her caring for him was simply how things were supposed to be.

He swore his heart started beating. Just for a moment.

"I love you too. Do you believe me? Do you believe I can care for you without a soul?"

She put a hand on his chest, right over his dead heart.

"I believe you have a heart, dear William – a heart so big even your demon could not conquer it." She smiled daringly. "And is that not more important?"

He swallowed thickly.

"Can I kiss you?"

Her cheeks went red.

"Only very gently, and you mustn't push." She looked at him as though he were a small boy waiting for the opportunity to misbehave. "I love all of you, truly – demon and man – but I need you to act the gentleman for now."

She was nervous – scared even. Not of him, but of what she felt, of what she wanted.

Of what he wanted.

Spike hadn't considered himself a gentleman for a very long time, but in that instance he did as Dru asked, only briefly brushing his lips against hers, no matter how much it cost him to pull away.

Even the slight contact felt sacred. He'd been an angel's first kiss.

He suddenly knew he wanted to be her last as well. That he wanted… that he wanted _a lot_. Certainly more than a demon was meant to want.

"Drusilla…" he breathed, his desperation and fear both obvious in his voice.

She looked at him like he was her everything.

"Trust me. I won't let you fall." He was scared anyway. "_Spike_."

It was the first time she'd called him that. The first time she'd addressed him as man and demon.

"I _know _you won't hurt me."

He didn't know if she thought that because she had faith in him or because her visions had told her as much.

He didn't need to ask. Simply knowing that Dru believed in him – in all of him – was enough.

Spike sighed and buried his face in her hair.

_Pray to your God for me. Pray he'll let you be right._

…

-6-

He started courting her.

It was ridiculous and made him feel like he was an actor playing a role that no longer suited him, but Dru was delighted and that was justification enough.

He wrote poetry and brought her flowers and met her family. Her father discussed business and her mother begged him not to let her silly visions chase him off – he wanted to slap her for it, but Dru put a hand on his arm and he stopped himself so as not to upset her – and her sisters whispered about how attractive they found him and giggled whenever he looked their way.

He made up a job he discussed with her father and made up a history he discussed with her mother and he told the sisters stories he'd picked up over the years and ignored the demon when it snarled at his softness towards the lot of them.

He also stopped killing. Stopped seeing other women. Stopped starting bar fights.

Not because he wanted to, because he really didn't. But because Dru would've wanted him to.

That's what his existence grew to be centered around.

What Dru would want. What she deserved. What would make her happy.

_Anything _Dru needed, and he would do it.

Sometimes the little bits of William in him thought there was something wrong with that, rankled because of what he lacked and how it darkened what should have been a pure love.

Sometimes.

But mostly he was happy to make Dru happy, and the way he saw it, that was more than enough.

…

-7-

They got married because even though Dru would never ask him – because she _refused _to ask for anything that his demon didn't like; hadn't even told him to stop killing, let alone demand he go along with a church wedding – he knew it meant a lot to her, and that she wouldn't feel right if they didn't get married properly.

He stole a formal suit and pretended he didn't worry Dru had 'seen' his theft, and spent the ceremony glaring at the crucifix and trying not to fidget.

Jesus was glaring at him again.

He was sure of it.

But it wasn't all bad. When they exchanged rings and he kissed her and they both said 'I do,' the part of him that had still been worried she would leave him, that she'd think he wasn't good enough, that didn't believe she could love him, was immensely satisfied at the proof that they had _something, _even if he did feel like erupting into gales of helpless laughter when he dwelled for too long on the likes of _him _going through with a bloody church wedding.

It was a good thing Dru and her family appreciated it, because he sure as hell hadn't.

But afterwards?

Afterwards made it worth it.

He cradled Dru against his chest as he brought her into his home. Held her even closer when he carried her to his room and set her gently on the floor in front of his bed.

He could see her hands shake, was aware of the fear in her eyes, and his heart wrenched at the knowledge that this creature of stunning, impossible innocence was _his_.

"Don't be afraid," he murmured. "I won't hurt you."

He kissed her hand first, letting his lips linger on her palm.

"I'll take care of you."

His lips moved to her neck, and he sucked her pulse point, smiling against her soft skin as her heartbeat stuttered. Slowly he kissed his way to her chin, then to her lips, lingering briefly before he pulled back and looked directly into her eyes. "Do you trust me?"

She rested her hands on his chest awkwardly. Unsurely. Like a child learning to walk for the first time. It was almost more alluring than he could stomach.

"Always."

Spike's hands shook nearly as much as hers as he undid her hair, letting it fall in loose waves around her shoulders. It was the first time he'd seen it down and he had to take a moment to run his fingers through the dark tresses, to enjoy the feeling of her locks like spun silk against his skin. Then he moved his hands down, sweeping them over her back, along the sides of her breasts – grinning when she shivered – and finally he brought them to the laces of her dress. He kissed her softly as he loosened each one, her shallow gasps punctuating every brush of his fingers against her body.

In a moment her gown was falling to the floor. He held back a frustrated growl when he realized she was still nearly fully dressed, but made quick work of her petticoats before releasing her from her corset, taking care to keep his motions gentle, all too aware of how Drusilla was trembling before him.

Her chemise and drawers were all that was left, but Dru still looked uncertain, her eyes wide, so Spike left those for the moment and instead offered her an arm. She took it trustingly, and Spike smiled as he led her to the bed, using his free hand to undo his cravat and then his waistcoat, absently shelling the garments before he returned his full attention to his angelic goddess.

Christ, she was small without all that bloody clothing. Slender and delicate and so, _so _beautiful.

He kissed her, gently at first, trying to coax her into relaxing. When he felt her stiff posture loosen he deepened the kiss, smiling against her lips as he drew her closer to him, her soft breasts pressing against his chest. He broke away briefly to allow her a moment to catch her breath, then captured her lips again, drawing a low whimper. Encouraged, Spike ran his tongue over her the seam of her mouth, coaxing it open. Dru hesitated only a moment before allowing him access, another delightful noise bursting from her throat when he took advantage of the invitation. Finally she began to forget her nervousness and hands that had previously been dangling at her sides rose, one tangling in his hair, the other exploring his back, tentative at first but soon wandering with arousing curiosity, the tips of her fingers tracing his muscles as though to memorize every inch of him.

He pulled her hips against his, hugging her to him. She began to tense at the feel of his rapidly stiffening manhood against her abdomen, but he shook his head. "S'all right," he murmured into her lips. "Means I want you. Nothing wrong with that." He lowered his head until he was nuzzling her chest. "You want me too, yeah?" He brought his mouth to her cotton-covered breast, laving it with his tongue, teasing it to a hard peak. Dru panted under his attentions, the smell of her arousal now thick in the air. A hoarse chuckled escaped his throat, and he murmured, "You do want me?"

"Y-yes…" She moaned as he turned to the other breast, lightly sucking at her nipple as she squirmed, moving against his now painfully hard erection, her previous explorations momentarily forgotten. "S-Spike!"

"That's it, let it out." Spike reached under her chemise and untied her drawers, Drusilla barely seeming to notice as he pulled them off of her. "Just _feel_," he breathed as he backed her against the bed and gently lowered her so that she lie sprawled out across the covers, red-faced and panting, her beautiful eyes wide, almost bewildered.

For a moment he simply stared, taking in the sight of her, wanting to preserve it forever.

"I love you," he blurted, sounding star-struck and _William _and not at all like a supposedly seductive vampire should have.

She laughed breathily in delight, and he thought maybe he'd act like an awed fool whenever she wanted if he could get her to make that sound again.

"I love you too, Spike." She smiled, the turn of her lips somehow guileless and seductive at the same time. "Let me prove it, won't you?"

"Vixen," he said, and laid down on the bed next to her, leaning forward to kiss her again. This time Dru didn't pause before returning it passionately, though she broke off after only a moment so _she _could kiss his face and neck. Spike panted as she started undoing his shirt, taking the time to pay attention to every button, smiling at him in just such a way that he knew her lack of urgency was intentional. He trembled nearly as badly as she had when he'd undressed her, his hips bucking helplessly at the air as her warm fingers brushed the planes of his chest.

When every button was unfastened, she peeled the garment off with painstaking slowness before leaning back and staring at him with the same sparkling eyes that'd caught his attention from the first time he saw her.

"Beautiful," she said, and leaned over him to drop a kiss over his un-beating heart.

_I'm going to dust. The bloody enchantress is going to burn me to ash. _

"Christ, Dru…"

He met her gaze, saw the readiness in her eyes, the want, the unadulterated _lust_, and the tight grasp he'd had on his control broke. Without breaking eye-contact he reached for the hem of her chemise and dragged it over her head, Dru now at ease enough to help him along. He drank in the sight of her for a heartbeat, studied her long arms and slight curves and small but perfectly shaped breasts, and then he was touching her, running his hands over her legs and hips and backside, kissing her breasts, her thin shoulders, her slender neck as Dru explored his upper body with nimble fingers, leaving trails of warmth in the wake of her touch.

"S-Spike," gasped Dru. "_Please." _

He had a feeling she didn't even know what she was begging for, that she didn't entirely understand what she was feeling, and that only made him want her more.

He unbuttoned his trousers and disentangled himself from Dru just long enough to slide them off. When he looked again, the sight of her – of his _wife _(a term that no longer seemed quite so absurd) – staring with wonder at his unrestrained erection was almost enough to make him come right then.

Exhaling a laugh at his own ridiculousness, he took a moment to regain control, then slowly positioned himself on top of her. Dru reached for him, thin arms pulling him closer, hips arching off the bed with need. A growl burst from Spike's throat as he forced himself to wait, to be gentle, to keep himself from hurting her, and Dru squirmed at the sound, tugging at him even more desperately.

"Drusilla," he murmured, then kissed her tenderly as positioned himself against her opening. A shudder racked his body as the tip of his erection touched her quim, her sweet warmth more inviting than he could have imagined. He gave her a fraction of a second to prepare herself, then pushed into her slowly, unable to hold back any longer.

She started to cry out when he impaled her, but Spike swallowed the noise with a kiss and whispered sweet nothings as he settled inside her, waiting for her to adjust to his size.

When he felt safe to continue, he rocked his hips, eyes trained on her face, at first to make sure she was alright, then to take in the pure bliss that had found its way onto her features. He couldn't resist raising a hand to map out the expression, to touch her partially opened mouth and feel her hot, breathy gasps against his flesh, to trace the hooded eyelids and flushed cheekbones, and brush aside tendrils of soft, wild hair.

Piece by piece, his restraint crumbled. His rocking became harder, more urgent. He kneaded her breasts, sucked and nipped at her neck, brought his lips to her ear and encouraged her as she tangled long fingers in his hair, as her fingernails dug into his back and the noises she made turned from needy whimpers to almost guttural moans that he could feel in every inch of him.

Then she brought her legs around his waist, muscles clenching as her desperation grew. Spike could barely hold back his demon as she began to meet him thrust for thrust, moving faster and harder until she came with a shriek of his name, her climax enough to send Spike over the edge as well. He bit her neck with dull teeth as he spurted into her, body pulsating with pleasure, head thrown back in ecstasy.

Together they collapsed in a boneless heap, legs still tangled, faces only inches apart.

For a moment he couldn't speak. He gathered himself, then reached out and grabbed one of her hands, bringing it to his chest.

"Feel the warmth here. Feel me _breathe_." And he was breathing, was breathing hard. Felt breathless even. "This is what you do to me, Dru. You make me more than a dead thing. Make me into something like a man."

Her eyes met his, dark and stunning and filled with so much love he had to look away.

"You're not _like _a man. You are a man." She kissed his lips softly as though to underscore her point.

He didn't realize he was crying until she lifted a hand to wipe his tears.

"What have I done to deserve you?" he whispered.

"Life isn't about deserving. It's about taking advantage of what is offered." She smirked at him, and he realized with a start that she was mirroring his own go-to expression. "I'm offering myself to you."

He managed a convincing waggle of his brows, although he was sure the effect was ruined by the tears still on his cheeks.

"Does that mean you want me to take advantage?"

Dru giggled. "I think… I think maybe we've both had enough for tonight, sweet William. But later?" She batted her lashes and imitated his accent as she said, "You can take advantage whenever you'd like."

Spike laughed, really and truly laughed, and then he kissed Dru long and hard because really it was the only thing he could have done.

Later, after she fell asleep, he spent the evening staring at her and wondering how on earth he'd been blessed with such a beautiful salvation.

He couldn't come up with a suitable explanation and settled instead for vowing to prove himself worthy of the gift he'd been given.

…

-8-

It wouldn't be easy. He knew that much.

He was obsessive and greedy and he loved Drusilla in a way that was a little too _much _to be entirely healthy.

He was also a vampire who was more or less immortal, and she was a human who would age and die much too quickly.

It was a relationship destined to be difficult, destined to end too early, too painfully, too harshly.

But she was his and he was hers and no matter what happened, _that_ would never change. Even when the stars burnt out, they still would've had this time together, would've had this shining love that encompassed their entire beings.

And when he looked at it that way, he thought it just might be enough.

…

…

…

**Author's Note: **

**I love Spike/Dru. It's one of my favorite pairings for the fandom and certainly above Spuffy. It's a ship with so much potential, and really it's kind of disappointing that it hasn't been explored more. **

**Well, I'm exploring it. Given, this isn't an exploration so much as a journey into an absurd amount of fluff, but hey, fluff is more fun. **

**Anyway, please tell me what you think. **


End file.
